The Cat's in the Bag
by Passing Obsession
Summary: Marinette's been a little spacey lately for our favorite cat in leather. Tikki is just tickled to death with the irony of it all, but she tries to help straighten it out for the bluenette with some kind words...and some covert snickering here and there. (Complete, but may? be added to in the future - no promises)


_Okay, I'm sorry in advance if it sounds oddly written and childish. This was late at night and I hadn't touched a pen or a keyboard in quite some time. But I like this fandom, so why not?_

Marinette sat hunched over her desk, thoroughly absorbed in her next project. Distantly, she leaned backwards in an attempt to soothe the ache in her back from holding such a position for so very long. She cast her gaze about the cozy room, spying Tikki cuddled up in a tiny... well, it was a bed of sorts, under a large, leafy plant she'd brought inside on request of the kwami for this exact purpose. Seeing her small friend in such a contented state brought a smile to her face.

Unfortunately, even after her bout of stretching, her back continued to protest rather loudly at it's abuse, and sighing at the tiny twinge behind her shoulder blades and the base of her spine, Marinette returned to her project. Only the thing was, Marinette didn't yet know what shape her project would take. Most times, her sewing was the product of well-thought out designs, sketched and re-done to her liking before she actually went about making them a reality. However, every once in awhile, when she was swept up in a mood of creativity and she had scraps of cloth to spare, she let her fingers work as they pleased, figuring things out as she went - or not, letting her mind wander as her fingers did, which was the course she seemed to choose this evening. Said course sometimes created something that could be given the title of "something" - meaning anything with a shape that wasn't a random mass of thread and cloth and stuffing - and sometimes not, but either way, the familiar act was soothing despite the pricks in her fingers.

And so, as it often did, her mind drifted into thoughts of eyes a brilliant, oh-so-familiar green. What wasn't so commonplace (though just as - _or more,_ she considered for a moment - familiar) were the accompanying swaths of black leather, infuriating little smirks, and of course, the fact that those familiar eyes were framed by a mask and did not belong to one Adrien Agreste. Adrien, whose presence in her head would both be more welcome and easier to explain to herself. No, the certain black cat who had taken up residence in said mind, really, had no business in there at all.

No, Chat Noir indeed had no business at all, pacing up and down the corridors of her cranium with every bit the lithe grace of his namesake. No business at all grinning that Cheshire grin at her from her memory, as if he somehow knew she was dwelling on him against her will and he was could barely contain his smug mirth...No business making her wonder how much control he had over those faux appendages of his, whether his ears would twitch if she ran her hand through his (rather soft looking) hair... _Certainly,_ no business _at all_ drawing her attention to the delicate shape of his lips, the mischievous curve of them in that damnable ( _damnable)_ smirk of his, that absently she pondered what might feel like on her own mouth -

 _NOPE._

Marinette, face aflame, leaned all the way back in her chair and ran a hand through her raven tresses, staring roof-wards, project momentarily abandoned.

 _NOPE! nope nope nope, Marinette you were not just thinking about Chat Noir that way, because you are definitely not falling for that cat, one love is problematic enough!_

A giggle sounded from her shelf - which could only be from Tikki, awoken from her sleep - which could also mean that she'd said all that aloud. Knowing herself, she had. _Damn. That's the third time I've been caught thinking about that cat this month._ Marinette groaned as a way of response, dragging her hands from her hair over her face in mortification. A wave of blue-black tresses smothered her words: "Tikki, I am not crushing on Chat Noir. This is not happening."

"You're right Marinette, you definitely aren't crushing on Chat Noir," Tikki reassured from her perch - or so it seemed, and just as Marinette finished a sigh and had begun to wonder at the odd tone of the sprite, she tacked on - with gusto, if she wasn't mistaken - "You're falling in love with him!"

She gaped at the ancient being incredulously. "Wha- Tikki, no! It's not - I don't - Aargh!" The heroine leaned forward once more, although much farther forward, and plopped her face into her hands, as if the smother the panicking flames in her cheeks. Tikki laughed again, though she was gentler in her words this time - but still just as honest.

"Marinette, you can't deny it, not to me at least; the way you've been looking at him lately when he won't notice on patrols, or the way you secretly think it's kinda funny when he says something you would've just rolled your eyes at before," She grinned cheekily, and went to hover near her chosen's shoulder. "I am still _there_ when you're Ladybug, you know. I'm aware of what goes on."

There was a strangled sound, presumably from Marinette, muffled by her hands. "But Tikki, I _can't_ love Chat! He's my partner - my best friend besides Alya, I would even say - but it's not like that!" She moaned.

"Why not?"

Marinette lifted her head from it's cradle. Her brow wrinkled in confusion. There was a pause.

"Why not what?"

Tikki rolled her eyes affectionately. _Oh, Marinette._ "Why can't you love him, Mari?" She asked.

The girl began to speak, but the little being continued. "Loving him wouldn't change anything about being partners or best friends - he loves you, you know he does and I know you know! - and you're still this close, so why would it just up and stop if you felt the same?"

She paused, and Tikki waited patiently. The sprite's form of argument was a tiny bit abrasive, yes, for her tastes, but Marinette needed a nudge in the right direction. Oh, if she knew who she were calling a silly kitten and bantering (totally flirting) with on rooftops _and falling for a second time!_ But no - it would mean more if Tikki let them do this naturally. Just a nudge would be enough. She smiled to herself - even if it was, admittedly, a bit of a mischievous smile ( _Plagg is rubbing off on me a little, I think,_ she snickered. _Oh, well; it was bound to happen sometime these few thousand years._ ).

After a long moment, Marinette's mouth opened to speak...and promptly closed again. "...I...I don't know, Tikki. What about - what about Adrien? I know that I love him, so how could I even _like_ Chat? Is...is that a sort of...betrayal?" she both questioned and answered tentatively.

Tikki let out a soft exhale, partially in sympathy for Marinette's feelings and partially to stop herself from giggling at the irony. _Oh, oh the irony._

"You aren't actually _dating_ Adrien, even if you'd really like to, so being interested in Chat can't hurt, yes?" she offered gently, and she saw some of the girl's affliction fade.

"Marinette, I understand that you're conflicted, but just because you feel that way about Adrien doesn't make your feelings for Chat any less valid," The kwami almost grinned, but Tikki held herself. "And do you know what that means?"

Marinette's brow creased once more, though now in curiosity. An onlooker would be surprised that something so small could smile so widely:

"You're falling in love with him!".

"AAAAGHHH!"

Tikki giggled heartily at the sound, as well as Marinette having to explain said sound of distress to her rather concerned mother ("Marinette? What was that shrieking for, did you hurt yourself again? Is everything alright?" "Uh, yeah, mom, just clumsy ol' me! Sewed right through my finger ," "Oh, honey! Do you need stitches? I'll come right -" "No! No no, no, fine! Totally fine!"), floating happily back to her spot on the shelf (hehe, spot) to lounge against her plant. Marinette herself, still sitting at her desk, huffed in frustration.

 _I am most certainly not falling for Chat,_ she thought resolutely, even with a firm shake of her head, as if to rid herself of the the notion, and turned back to her long-forgotten project.

...And promptly was gobsmacked.

There, on her desk, while unfinished, sat a little black cat shaped pillow with telling green button eyes that would have been cute, had her fingers not betrayed her in creating it in the midst of her day (night? It was dark outside) dreaming.

 _Oh, god, I'm falling for Chat Noir._

The sound of a heavy thump and faint groaning met Tikki's tiny ears, and she smirked. _The cat is_ definitely _in the bag - or at least Mari's heart._

She rolled her eyes behind closed lids from her cozy niche. _I'm making puns. Plagg really is rubbing off on me - that or his Chat._ She smiled fondly. _Silly cats._


End file.
